The "Russian" Roulette of Terrifyingly Mad Swans or Delicious Currant Soft-Drink

     When my parents took over the farm from my grandparents, we lived in a house that no longer exists, which was located a long gravel-driveway away from the big manor house, where my grandmother still lived. This was very customary in these family owned old farm situations.
     In order to get to the manor house one would have to go up the long tree lined gravel-driveway, that was flanked on one side by woodlands and on the other side was the big part of the mote. At the end of the driveway was a gravel bridge (yes, a long time ago it actually was a  drawbridge, no reports of dragons however.) which ended in a circular drive around the decorative well in the middle.

     For a little child, this seemed a long walk, but in actuality it wasn't so far. What made it seem impossibly far however, was the fact that my grandmother had two swans. Swans are pretty, which is why she had them to begin with; they are also Denmark's national bird; so all very patriotic and romantic, BUT these swans were certifiably mad! They would chase anything and anyone; incidentally I think it was around this time the mailman switched from a bike to a car.
     Having had my finger bit recently by an Ostrich in a local zoo, I was terrified by these swans.

     Occasionally, mail to my grandmother would be delivered erroneously to us (perhaps on a day the mailman chose to enjoy the beautiful weather from his bike after all, but didn't want to risk the impending swan-attack) Sometimes my father would bring the wayward mail up to my grandmother, as he had to speak to her on other matters, and sometimes he would ask me to do the favor.

     It is easy to imagine my horror at the thought of the swans, but there actually was a possible reward to the task, IF I was very lucky!

      I had to watch the part of the mote, that could be seen from my house, which wasn't much, and go when the swans at least weren't in sight there. Some front-parts of the mote, I couldn't see, would be a gamble, but they had steeper sides, so it was harder for the swans to run up the sides there, and chase me (flight is quite laborious for them). But there was one side I absolutely couldn't see until I was there, fully committed, no way back, as I was 3/4 of the way; and the chase from the swans on this part was easy, the slopes much more gentle. One would have to run very fast to avoid attack; so it took footwear planning. Sandals were out of the question (gravel get into them when you have to run really fast) and clogs impossibly slow. (Try running in clogs on gravel...makes sandals seem like a breeze!) The nice sneakers were out of the question, as they would get completely dusty and rubber boots are up there with clogs. A conundrum indeed!

      If my grandmother was home, she would always invite me inside and she would reward me with either a popsicle or a glass of her homemade currant drink. Now, I wasn't a big fan of currant then, but somehow, when she made it, it tasted delicious. She would first put the concentrate in a tall glass, then she would let the cold water run from the tap at full blast for a while; she explained to me: to get it as cold as possible and more importantly to make it foam up. And foam it did. We would sit in her kitchen (safe from the mad swans) and together enjoy this treat with the sun streaming in from big windows. From the windows we could see the driveway and the mote on both sides of it, and we would be able to time my return to the farm, at a time when the swans were on the other side of the house.

     If my grandmother wasn't home on the other hand, her second husband, who didn't enjoy us children particularly, would answer the door and take the mail, no reward would be offered, only the retreat through dangerous territory lay ahead.

    Life's a gamble sometimes, but if you don't play, you miss out. Play that hand! :-)